


T&A

by dotchan



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotchan/pseuds/dotchan
Summary: One can always count on Scout to come up with bad ideas, especially with a lady Medic on the team.Written in 2013.





	T&A

Every time the Scout gets dared to do something after he's just drunk enough to not think things through (and he so does, shut up and stop reminding him of the stupid shit he does while sober, it made perfect sense at the time, okay?), he swears to himself that he'll never, ever, ever let his teammates goad him into stuff that even he'd consider nigh suicide, he still guzzles too much beer for his skinny self, still runs his mouth about things he should keep quiet about, and still gets riled up by the tiniest of insinuations.   
  
This time, he almost chickens out on going up to the office of the team’s Tits Medic (she'd laughed it off when she heard the less than flattering moniker, answering that by this logic this made her opposite number "Dicks Everywhere") at least a million times. No way he was scared of anybody, least of all the lone , but Tits Medic was even more fucking batshit than any of the dude docs. Even if she was anything close to hot, the Scout does not have any plans to tap that, because he knows better than put his dick in crazy. And rumor has it that on her very first day on the job, Tits Medic had announced to the team that unless any of them possessed stamina surpassing her collection of "wonderful toys" (her words, not the Scout's, he doesn't want to know what kind of kinky shit she keeps hidden away in her desk drawers), they could keep their penises to themselves, though if any of them did want to have their horizons expanded, she was more than happy to fuck any one of them with her strap-on.   
  
The Scout is very much not interested in having his horizons (or anything else) expanded, but he'd gotten plastered again, and he'd gone yapping again, and he's thinking again that maybe this time he'll just take the penalty for blowing off the dare because there's no way some truth or dare punishment game can be worse than what the Tits Medic might do to him, it's not like he could ever live it down either way.   
  
But before he knows it he's at her door and knocking on it, light and dainty with his knuckles because Tits Medic had fuckingamputated the last idiot who'd thought it was a good idea to pound on said door like he was the police or something, his digits making the rhythm of "shave and a haircut", oh shit am I really doing this this is the worst idea in forever!   
  
She cracks the door open just far enough to see him--and the rest of the team doing a piss poor job of both hiding and keeping quiet--but doesn't remove the chain, arching one side of her furry-ass as shit uni-brow at him. "All right, so who vint on a drunken bender and broke all zeir bones zis time?"   
  
The Scout's mouth kicked into action before his brain could catch up. "Nah, it ain't dat late at night yet, but I was thinking, so I hoid dat you were offerin' a little action, and I was thinking, well, maybe I could get inta summa dat, but dere has to be some give an' take, tit fer tat, ya know? I figure, it can't be all dat faggy ta take it up da ass from a chick, even if it's you--no offense, lady, but if we met in a bar somewhere I'd put a bag ovah yer head before we got it on--so I guess I could try it once just ta see what all da big deal is, but I think I should get somethin' in retoin, ya know, fer bein' a good sport and all, it don't have ta be nuthin' too serious, just a blowjob would be pretty cool."   
  
Tits Medic waits for the Scout to pause for breath, then raises a single, gloved finger, and after the Scout complies with her unspoken request, asks: "How many?"   
  
The Scout blinks. "Bwuh?"   
  
Tits Medic lets out a light sigh as she massages her temples. "How many hef you had to drink? You reek of ze piss ze Americans try to pass for bier, and ze peanut gallery ovah zere--" she tilts her head at their mutual audience, "sounds like zere hef been, how do you say, shenanigans."   
  
The Scout swears the room gets colder at the word "shenanigans", but he manages to stand his ground, sorta, though he's starting to break out in a nervous sweat. "Look, lady, just gimme a 'yes' or a 'no' heyah, it ain't like I'm askin' ta marry ya er nuthin."   
  
Tits Medic slaps him.   
  
"What da hell was dat for?" he demands, holding his stinging cheek.   
  
"I'd give you ze full list, but zen I'd be hir all nacht. But for now, consider zis a blow struck for science; zey say zat it accelerates ze sobriety process." She telegraphs the impending blow by raising her hand and glares when the Scout flinches. "Don't be such a baby."   
  
"I ain't bein' a baby! I'm just not, y'know, inta pain like some sick freak!" This time, the Scout reacts in time for the slap to land on his ear instead of his cheek, but it still burns like when he crosses his ma and she lays into him and threatens to bring out the belt because he's still not too old to not get a thorough spanking, and he's starting to think maybe he should smack Tits Medic back one, consequences be damned. "C'mon, I ain't dat drunk!"   
  
"Prove it." She's shining her freaking penlight in his eyes now, looking him over like she wants him on her operating table and not in her bed. "Recite ze alphabet, bitte," and when the Scout's about to do that, easy peasy, she adds with a smirk: "backwards."   
  
"Aw, geez, can't we just get ta tha part where we're having hot, steamy sex? Man, I'm like, practically throwing myself atcha and yer still actin' like a frigid bitch!"   
  
This time, the slap is harder, and the sting moves from the mere threat of something worse to start praying, because you're in deep shit now. "Stop. Stop talking like you are somehow 'doing me a favor' by propositioning me." She stabs a finger into the Scout's chest, enunciating her words with deliberate slowness as if speaking to a very dull-witted child, each syllable so crisp that the accent that earned her the other nickname of 'Countess Draculina' had all but vanished. "We are peers. If we are to fuck--and that is a very big if right now--it will be on equal terms. Do I make myself clear?"   
  
"Crystal," the Scout squeaks, and the needle on his internal decision meter dips back towards _screw this, I'm out of here_ ; as humiliating as it was to stand on the roof naked and bellow "I'm a little teapot" at two in the morning, his little proposition with Tits Medic had moved way beyond trying to fulfill a drunken dare and into uncharted territory. The Scout had fooled around--and scored--with of girls before, but Tits Medic wasn't some blushing cheerleader that the Scout could bumble through with sloppy kisses on her face, blind gropes at her boobs and vague thrusts between her legs and call it a day. Even if she ever does let him put his dick into her instead of the other way around (hell might freeze over first, but he could dream), he has a feeling that she'd still want to call all the shots.   
  
Tits Medic snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Alphabet, backwards, vile ze night iz still young, ja?"   
  
He complies, or at least tries to. What efforts he's made to sober up seems to have gone down the shitter as he struggles and stutters through what should be a simple task, and the others don't make it any easier by snickering or mocking him. He makes it as far as somewhere around halfway before he whirls on his unwanted audience and all but roars "CUT IT OUT!"   
  
"You Neanderthals still here?" Tits Medics eyes narrow. "Don't you have somezing bettah to do?"   
  
The mob sways, but they linger, holding onto that last bit of alcohol-fueled bravado. The Scout tries to pretend they're not there and tries the 'kicked puppy' approach this time. "Look, can I--can I at least come in and not hafta put on a show for dose assholes?"   
  
She doesn't seem swayed in the least. "Ahrn't you here to do just zat, put on a show? Tell me, if you vere not drunk and under ze impression zat your teammates vould somehow zink less uv you if you didn't act like a dummkopf, vould you still be asking me to hef sex vit you?"   
  
"I dunno, it's not like I ever think about having something up my ass, I don't swing dat way, but I guess if I was gonna go for dat kinda thing, it might as well be with you, please don't hit me again?"   
  
Tits Medic sighs a second time and lets the Scout stand there like a lemon for what feels like forever before moving aside. "Very well. Enter."   
  
The Scout jabs a triumphant middle finger in the direction of the others before stepping into Tits Medics's office, then realizes that isn't maybe the best move right now and mutters a sheepish apology to her. She gives him a slight nod in response, then turns her attention to the crowd as well, scattering them with a single but sharp "Ahem".   
  
_Am I really gonna do this?_ the Scout wonders as he follows behind Tits Medic, the nerves he has been fighting all night up to this point returning in full force. His imagination runs wild with all sorts of nightmare scenarios, most of them involving him finding out that he was into all sorts of sick shit that would send any girl running should he admit to liking them.   
  
In the meantime, Tits Medic has disappeared behind a partition. "Don't throw your zings in a heap on ze floor after you've removed zem, bitte," she calls from there.   
  
"I dunno, man, it's cold as balls in heyah. I kinda wanna keep my shoit on." It's a pitiful excuse, but it's the first thing that springs to mind. Anything to delay what he hopes isn't inevitable.   
  
"Suit yourself." There's more of that familiar shuffling of clothes on skin, and when Tits Medic emerges back into view holding what must be her Box of Goodies, the Scout feels his jaw drop. From the neck down, she's fucking gorgeous: her small but pert breasts lay snug in a team-colored lacy bra, and though her panties cover everything below her belly button they're so goddamn fancy that the Scout can't even begin to imagine them off. The silk robe that she is wearing on top is just thin and sheer enough to hint at the curves hidden by her usual outfit.   
  
"Holy fuck," the Scout breathes, and before he can stop himself, asks: "Are dose for real?"   
  
Tits Medic doesn't even bother to roll her eyes. "Nein. And before you ask, I'd razzer zat you not touch zem."   
  
"Aww, c'mon, not even once?" Then the Scout processes Tits Medic's words. "Wait, what?"   
  
She all but slams the box on her desk. "You ahr stalling. Ezzah get on wiz it or get out."   
  
He sticks out his tongue. "Well, excuuuuse me for not bein' all gung ho about havin' a dick up my ass without so much as a kiss!"   
  
"You vant foreplay, do it yourself." She opens the box and starts laying out what she has in there, some of which the Scout's seen or heard about, but the rest all he can do is guess what they might be for, and he starts feeling light-headed as a result.   
  
"I think I'm gonna be sick," he mutters.   
  
She's not the slightest bit ruffled by this. "Vomit in ze sink, not on ze floor." Then she picks out a floppy rubber fake penis that's like the length of a fucking loaf of bread and then some as well as two bottles of lube, one of which she tosses underhand at the Scout before going back into the other side of the partition again.   
  
He manages to make the catch without bobbling it. He tries to keep quiet, but he holds out for all of two minutes, tops. "So, uh. About your boobs."   
  
"None ov your business." She sounds just testy enough that the smart side of his brain thinks he should stop asking and the dumb side thinks he should press on.   
  
Neither side manages a decisive victory, so what the Scout says next is a combination of retarded and brilliant: "I ain't askin' fer yer life story or nuthin', I just wanna know ahead 'a time if dere's somethin' I should watch out fer, you know I have diarrhea 'a da mouth an' all."   
  
Her answer is almost immediate, as if she's thought of this possibility already: "Or I could just gag you."   
  
Her annoyance level doesn't seems to have changed, to he tests the metaphorical waters a bit more. "Hey, man, one weird thing at a time."   
  
She sighs a third time. "You ahr such a child."   
  
He can't help himself; she's walked right into an ice-burn comeback. "So what does dat make you, a cradle robber?"   
  
This time, she chuckles. "Vell, if you must know, I am old enough to be your muzzer."   
  
He makes a face. "Aw, c'mon, lady! I don't need to think about sum'in' like dat while we're havin' sex!"   
  
"What vould you prefer to think about, zen?"   
  
A million fantasies flit through his head. "I dunno. Boobs, I guess, all big and round and bouncy. Or doin' it with, like, three ladies at once would be pretty awesome."   
  
She scoffs at this. "You realize zat even one voman can hef multiple orgasms, right? I doubt even you could hef zat sort ov stamina."   
  
"That sounds like some kinda old wives' tale."   
  
"Nein, zere hef been studies confirming zis."   
  
He thinks back to the encounters that he's had and all of of sudden some of the reactions he got after he was finished made a whole lot more sense. "Dat don't sound fair, though."   
  
"Considering zat females ahr ze ones who can become pregnant, it vould make sense for zem to be ze ones who ahr capable of enjoying what comes before zat, ja?"   
  
"I guess." Just as the Scout is starting to wonder maybe if Tits Medic is the one who's stalling, she re-emerges into view, and his eyes just about bug out of his head: the dildo is now peeking out of her underwear like she's some kind of male impersonator.   
  
She gives him a once-over, and seeing that all he's doing is standing there gaping at her, she makes what sounds like an annoyed noise and comes closer.   
  
"Uh--" He manages, keeping his gaze fixed on her face instead of anywhere else, his words failing him mas a result.   
  
She doesn't stop until she's way too close to him--the dildo doesn't touch, not quite yet, but all she would have to do is lean forward. She reaches up to caress his face, but changes her mind when she sees him flinch. "Yes or no."   
  
He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, so he settles for a half-nod, half-headshake before shrugging and hoping she gets how helpless he feels. It's the first time he's ever felt out of his element with a lady, and it's as scary as it is thrilling.   
  
"I told you. Eizzer get naked or get out." One side of the uni-brow twitches when he doesn't move. " _Shnell_ , or I vill hef you strapped to my table."   
  
This motivates him to backpedal, one-two-three quick little steps, before he turns on his heel and doesn't quite run, he still has enough pride to not want to feel like he's making a break for it, but his steps are hard and fast. He pauses at the door to glance back--she's still there, in the silken robe and the lacy underwear and the fake penis sticking out--and tries to think of something to say, but he can't, so he just pulls the door shut behind him and makes a beeline for his room.   
  
He gets a few teasing questions and jabs about his adventure in Tits Medic's room, but he shrugs it off and spouts off some shit that the others dismiss as his usual tall tales. For her part, Tits Medic just sits in her usual seat at the table and eats in silence, her expression as grumpy as always.


End file.
